


The Inn Around The Corner

by javajunkie



Category: To All the Boys I've Loved Before Series - Jenny Han, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-07-10 12:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15949073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/javajunkie/pseuds/javajunkie
Summary: You've Got Mail AU.Lara Jean runs a small-town inn with her sisters and finds herself at odds with Peter Kavinsky when he opens an Econo-Inn down the street.  Thanks to an accidental text, both of them unwittingly engage in an electronic relationship with the other.  Covinsky AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote two things today, so why not post them both? This feels a bit like a crack fic, but, HERE YOU GO!

Lara Jean Covey’s earliest memories were in a kitchen.  She was two or three, watching her mom put the finishing touches on a chocolate cake.  She quickly learned to enjoy baking time the most, because her mom let her sneak tastes. She had vivid memories of swirling her fingertip through leftover vanilla buttercream frosting.  Breaking apart a chocolate chip cookie, the inside still warm and gooey.  When she was seven, her mom took her baking hobby and opened up a bed and breakfast.  The Willowbrook Inn.   A place where you could find the best food, hospitality and people.  Twenty some odd years later, Lara Jean still believed that they had all of the best.

            “Is that him?”  Lara Jean whispered, standing with her sister, Kitty, behind the front desk of the Willowbrook Inn, and trying to covertly size up a man standing on the other side of the lobby.  He was somewhat obscured by a large plant, which made the task difficult. 

            “Yes, that’s him.  His friend checked in, not him, but they gave the name John Smith. Seems suspicious, right?”

            “I mean, it’s possible his name is John Smith. Did you ask for ID?”

            “Yeah, it checks out.  But still…”

            Both sisters craned their neck to try to see around the plant.  The man felt their gaze and looked over, and both women quickly looked down at the desk.

            “Do you think he saw that?” Kitty asked urgently.

            “Saw what?”  Margot asked, joining them.

            “Do you see that guy by the plant in the corner?” Kitty asked.  “I’m pretty much convinced that it’s Ryan Gosling.  Lara Jean doesn’t believe me.”

            “It’s not that I don’t believe you,” Lara Jean said. “I just need more proof.”

            “That’s ridiculous.  What would Ryan Gosling be doing in Willowbrook?”  Margot said.

            “Maybe he’s filming a movie,” Kitty said hopefully. 

            Margot shook her head.  “If he was filming a movie here, we’d all know about it.”

            “Fine, well, maybe he’s passing through town on his _way_ to film a movie.”

            “Oh, he’s moving!”  Lara Jean said excitedly.  The three sisters watched – two with less interest than the third – when a man who was very clearly not Ryan Gosling walked past.  Kitty deflated and said, “I guess it wasn’t him.”

            “I’m so glad we solved that enthralling mystery,” Margot deadpanned. 

            Lara Jean’s phone pinged in her pocket and she pulled it out, quickly reading a text message from her friend, Chris.  Kitty looked over with interest and asked, “Is that him?”

            “No,” Lara Jean said, her cheeks flushing. 

            Margot looked between her sisters and asked, “Who are you talking about?”  

            “Lara Jean’s secret admirer,” Kitty enthused with a wide and toothy grin.  “She’s still talking to that random number that texted her.”

            “Seriously?”  Margot said, sending a disapproving look toward Lara Jean.  “He could be some crazy stalker for all you know.  You really need to be more careful.”

            “He’s not a stalker.  He’s nice and sweet.  And besides, we haven’t exchanged any personal information.”

            “Well, keep it that way.  I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

            Lara Jean shrugged and slid her phone back into her pocket.  It all started a few weeks ago when a random number sent her a long and rambling text message about cross walkers moving too slowly in intersections.  It was clearly meant for someone else, but she couldn’t help responding.

_Sorry, I think you sent this to the wrong number.  But, I COMPLETELY agree._

_Don’t they know there are turners? Do they just not care?_

_And how do they not feel the total and complete disapproval coming from my car?   Because I am glaring.  A lot._

            She didn’t expect much of a response, but he sent her an entire paragraph.  From there, they texted about nothing and everything.  Shows on television.  The lines at coffee shops.  One night, he texted her about the moon.

_You should see the moon right now. It’s this glowing orb in a pitch-black sky._

_It sort of makes you wonder why they write all those songs about second-rate stars._

            She remembered resting her head against the window frame in her bedroom and gazing up at that same moon, wondering where he was and if he looked forward to her messages as much as she did his.  They didn’t exchange names.  After the pages of messages, it almost seemed like an afterthought.  Besides, why did she need it?  They were never going to meet.  He mentioned something about living a town over, but he hadn’t broached the subject of meeting and she certainly wasn’t going to on her own.  After he told her that his favorite book was _Cather in the Rye_ , she put him in her phone as Holden Caufield.   

            Lost in her thoughts, Lara Jean hadn’t noticed Margot leave and reappear, her sister haphazardly working her hair into a ponytail as she said, “Lara Jean, they need you in the kitchen.  There apparently is some issue with the produce shipment.”

            “Never a dull moment,” Lara Jean sighed.  She turned to her sister and teasingly added, “Kitty, let me know if there are any more celebrity sightings.”

            “In my defense, he had many Gosling qualities.”

            “Of course, he did, Kitty.”

            Lara Jean made her way back into the kitchen, frowning when she saw the center counter piled high with strawberries. Her sous chef, Andy, said, “They messed up our order again.  What the hell are we supposed to do with five pounds of strawberries?”

            “Did someone already call on this?”

            “Yeah, I did.  Nick apologized, apparently there was a mixup with shipments, but we have to use these somehow.”

            “I know.”  Lara Jean considered her options and then said, “Let’s switch out the cheesecake for tonight and do a strawberry shortcake.  That should at least put a dent in them.  And how about a fresh strawberry lemonade?”

            Andy nodded, face distracted and then he said, “Hold on.  What about a pound cake with a strawberry-balsamic reduction?”

            Lara Jean’s eyes lit up.  “Yes.  And maybe a touch of cannoli cream?  We have some ricotta left over from the lasagna earlier this week.”

            “Oh, this is going to be good.  I’m almost not mad about the five pounds of strawberries now.”   

            Lara Jean grinned, grabbed her apron and tied it around her waist before starting in on the remaining lunch orders.  She was seasoning a tray of chicken breasts when one of her waiters came in and sheepishly said, “There’s a bit of a situation outside.”

            Lara Jean noticed the soup down the front of the waiter’s uniform and said, “Please tell me that isn’t also on one of our customers.”

            “Do you want the truth?” the waiter asked, wincing slightly.

            “Okay, I’ll handle this,” Lara Jean said, washing her hands quickly.  “What table?”

            “Eight.”  The waiter sensed Lara Jean’s disapproval, and added, “He was done eating!  So, it’s not like I ruined his meal.  That much.  I might have ruined his shoes, though.  They looked like they might be suede.”

            “Oh boy.  Okay.”

            Lara Jean cut a thick slice of their chocolate cake and put it on a plate.  It may not fix suede shoes, but it did tend to diffuse high emotions.  She walked over to table eight and saw that it held a man around her age.  He was bent over, dabbing at his shoes with a napkin.

            “Hi there, I wanted to apologize about the soup incident,” Lara Jean said.

            The man looked up, and she was struck by the brilliance of his eyes.  They were brown with golden specks.  Like liquid amber.  She realized that she held his gaze for just a beat too long, and quickly said, “I brought you a slice of our chocolate cake.  On the house.”

            “Thanks.”

            “Are your shoes okay?”  Lara Jean asked, peering down at them.  “I can grab you some club soda from the back.”

            She realized that she didn’t actually know if you could treat suede shoes with club soda, but before she had to think that through too far, the man said, “Nah, they’ll be fine.  I’d been meaning to replace them soon anyway.  Thanks for the cake, though.”

            “You’re welcome.  If you need anything else, just ask.”

            “I will…” he clearly searched her blouse for a name-tag, which she was not wearing, and she told him, “I’m Lara Jean.”

            “Okay.  Thank you, Lara Jean.”

            She gave him a crisp nod and then returned to the kitchen, for some reason wanting to look back, but avoiding the urge.  A table’s order was up, and instead of risking another catastrophe, Lara Jean took the order out herself.  She walked past the man’s table on her way back and he stopped her.

            “Hey, do you guys make this cake here?”

            “Yeah, we do,” Lara Jean said.  “Well, I do.  I do all the baking here.”

            “This is the best chocolate cake I’ve eaten. Actually, no, this might be the best _cake_ I’ve ever eaten.  How do you get it to taste like this?”

            Lara Jean laughed lightly.  “I don’t know.  I mean, it’s a lot of butter and sugar.  Making it taste good isn’t very difficult.”

            The man shook his head resolutely.  “No, I’ve eaten a lot of cake in my life.  And it’s never tasted like this.”

            “Well, thank you,” she said, feeling herself blush. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

            She went to leave when he asked her, “So, how long has this place been open?”

            It took her a minute to remember, her brain somewhat muddled around him, but then she told him, “1997.”

            “It’s nice.  It has a really friendly feel to it.”

            Lara Jean smiled softly and said, “My mom always said that the best bed and breakfasts were the ones where everyone feels like family you haven’t met.  We still try to honor that.”

            “So, this is your family’s bed and breakfast?”

            Lara Jean nodded.  “Yeah.  My mom used to run it, but after she passed away my sisters and I took over.  We couldn’t imagine selling it.”

            “That’s nice of you guys to carry on her legacy like that.”

            “Honestly, we do it for us as much as for her.  She poured so much of herself into this place, that whenever I’m here…I don’t know…it feels like maybe she isn’t entirely gone.”

            She felt like she shared too much, but he smiled warmly and told her, “I think she’d be very proud of you.  All of you.”

            “Thank you.”  

            The man nodded, his expression contemplative, and she thought he was about to ask her another question when he laid his fork down and said, “Well, thank you for the cake.  I appreciate it.”

It was a clear end to the conversation, and she said, “You are very welcome.”  She noticed that he had just about finished the cake and said, “I’ll have someone bring you out your check.”

            She turned around and headed back into the kitchen. Kitty trailed behind her, in search of coffee, and asked, “So, who was that guy you were talking with?”  

            “Just some customer,” Lara Jean said.  She turned to one of her waiters and asked, “Can you bring table eight his check?  Thanks.”

She poured Kitty a cup of coffee and passed it to her before filling one up for herself.  “It’s weird, there was something so familiar about him.”

            “Maybe you’ve seen him around town?”

            Lara Jean shook her head.  “I don’t think so.”

            “Did you get his name?”

            Lara Jean shook her head again and Kitty sighed. “You really are very bad at this.”

            The waiter returned with table eight’s check, and Kitty excitedly plucked the black envelope from his hand.  No doubt, hoping to find a credit card with his name.  She deflated when she saw that he paid with cash.

            “Well, that was disappointing.”

* * *

             That evening, Willowbrook had its monthly town hall meeting.  Lara Jean planned to arrive early, not wanting to have to stand in the back like last month, but her afternoon proved unpredictable and she didn’t arrive at the meeting until well after it started.  Kitty saved her a seat near the back and beckoned her over. 

            “You owe me big time.  Mrs. Landingham tried to take your seat no less than three times. I’m pretty sure I am blacklisted at her flower shop now.”

            “Like you ever buy flowers.”

            “I could, Lara Jean.  I could.  Oh, and by the way, your hot guy is here.”

            “What?”

            Kitty pointed, somewhat obviously, to the seats over on the side of the room, and sure enough, there was the man from earlier. He was receiving many looks from the people in the room, mainly due to the fact that he was the only new face present. Willowbrook was a small town and it wasn’t uncommon for families to date back numerous decades, complete with deep-rooted friendships and disagreements.  The Hallowell and Pickett families still couldn’t sit together at town hall meetings.  All of that to say, a new face stood out. 

            Their mayor, Tom Newberry, ran the meeting and he grinned wide before he said, “Everyone I have some very exciting news to share with you all today.  Just last week, it was confirmed that Willowbrook will be getting its very own Econo-Inn!”

            Lara Jean blanched.  Econo-Inns were notorious for barreling into towns and decimating its competition.  With such a large corporate structure (and deep pocket) they were able to offer rooms at prices that smaller establishments couldn’t compete with.  Not to mention, they were corporate tools, shelling out fake hospitality with stale cookies and plastered grins. 

“This exciting addition to our town will mean more tourists. Which means more people in your stores and restaurants.”  The crowd buzzed appreciatively.  “To share more details about this very exciting opportunity, I turn the floor over to Econo-Inn’s very own Peter Kavinsky.   

            Lara Jean was already stunned, but she was down-right _floored_ when she saw the man from earlier stand up and join Mayor Newberry at the podium.  He shook his hand heartily and said, “Thank you, Mayor Newberry, for that warm introduction.  Hello everyone.  As Mayor Newberry already said, my name is Peter Kavinsky.  For years, my family has been dedicated to creating comfortable and affordable home-away-from-homes for people on the road.  Places that feel familiar the moment you walk in the front door. Where everyone feels like family you haven’t met.”

            “Son of a bitch,” Lara Jean muttered under her breath.  She wasn’t exactly quiet and drew some looks from people seated near her.

            “That’s mom’s line,” Kitty whispered angrily. 

            “I know.  I told him it earlier,” Lara Jean returned in a tight voice.

            Peter continued with, “Willowbrook is a town that does just that, which is why I cannot imagine a more perfect location for our next Econo-Inn.  Thank you for having us.”

            The room was clearly charmed, save for the two Covey sisters who were shooting daggers at the speaker.  Lara Jean couldn’t believe his gall.  Not only did he deceitfully fraternize with his competition, but he did it so openly.  Complimenting her cake.  Asking about the inn.  And then he went ahead and repurposed her mom’s philosophy as his own.  The meeting closed up, Mayor Newberry providing closing remarks, and then Lara Jean made her way directly to Peter, her angry energy so palpable that the crowd parted for her.

            Peter was in the middle of a conversation with the owner of the local bookstore when Lara Jean interrupted with, “Hey, remember me?”

            Peter looked over and frowned slightly before telling the bookstore owner, “I’m sorry, can you excuse me for a moment?” He turned to Lara Jean and offered, “Why don’t we step outside?”

            “Why?”

            “Well, I have the distinct feeling I’m about to get yelled at.”

            “You think?  I bet you were just laughing it up when you were at the inn earlier. Thinking about how clever you were sneaking into the competition’s dining room.  _Preening_ over the chocolate cake to make us like you.”

            “You liked me?”  he lobbed back with a sly grin.

            “What?  No.  I didn’t like you.  I tolerated you.  And that cake?  It was day-old cake.  Do you think I like you now with that day-old cake?”

             “It was still very good cake,” he returned reasonably.

            “You are unbelievable,” Lara Jean said shortly. “You knew exactly what you were doing. And I can’t believe I told you about my mom, and then you _used_ it for your own gain?”

            The easy expression dropped from Peter’s face, and he said, “Whoah, whoah, whoah, hold on.  What are you talking about?”

            “You used her line!  A place where everyone feels like family you haven’t met-“

            “Look, your mom’s whole hospitality thing…it’s nice, but it’s not exactly unique.  We’ve essentially been selling the same mission statement for years.  If I made it seem like I was trying to steal your mom’s legacy or something, that wasn’t my intention.”

            “But-“

            “ _And_ I wasn’t sneaking into your dining room.  I heard that you guys had the best food in town and it was around lunchtime. It wasn’t some nefarious plan.  I was hungry.”

            It was hard to stay angry in the face of his calm explanation, but she managed. 

“Don’t try to play nice.  I know exactly how people like you operate and I won’t fall for it. This isn’t over, Peter Kavinsky.”

With that she turned on her heel and stormed out of the meeting.  Kitty followed and asked, “Did you really serve him day-old cake.  Margot would freak if she found out.”

“Of course I didn’t.  I have standards.”

Kitty was quiet for a moment and then said, “Maybe it won’t be that bad.  I’m sure some places survive with them.”

Lara Jean wanted to humor her little sister and slid her arm around her shoulders.  “Yeah. Maybe.”

Kitty read into Lara Jean’s uncertain tone and asked, “What are we going to do?”

“For now, we do what Mom taught us.  We work.  That’s all we can do right now.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI - some of the texts in here are taken straight from You've Got Mail. So, that is intentional!

            Every morning, somewhere between her first cup of coffee and breakfast, Lara Jean’s phone pinged with a text message from him.  It was usually a good morning with some funny observation from his morning commute.  Sometimes it was a quote that particularly struck him. She would never openly admit it, but his messages were the best part of her morning.  Lara Jean could just imagine Margot’s exaggerated eye-roll if she ever heard about that.  But, she couldn’t help it.  That morning, he texted her about visiting New York in the fall.  New York seemed impossibly large next to her small town.  She was never much of a big city girl, but his texts made her yearn to explore.

 

_You’d love New York in the fall._

_It makes me want to buy school supplies._

            She laughed at that, somehow understanding perfectly how the crisp autumn weather beckoned new beginnings and, invariably, the itch for some pen and post-its.  She secretly loved the routine of the school year prep when she was a kid, and when she told him he sent back:

 

_I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address._

 

            Lara Jean grinned at the imagery, picturing a bouquet of golden-yellow pencils with perfectly sharp tips, all held together with a jaunty red bow.  She held that image close to her all the way to work and through the busy morning crowd, her smile rarely faltering as she fielded the normal hiccups of the day.  Not even a biting remark from Margot about the kitchen going over-budget the last month dampened her spirts.

            And then she spotted Peter in her dining room.

            When Lara Jean was younger, her mother always taught her that when she was upset, she should count to ten before doing or saying anything.  That way, she would gain perspective on the situation and not act impulsively.  Lara Jean had been pretty good at following this advice.  It helped avoid many sister meltdowns.  It absolutely saved her relationship with her best friend, Chris, during Prom-Gate 2008. However, even Eve Song could not anticipate the inflammatory effects of one Peter Kavinsky.

            Lara Jean stormed over to his table and braced her hands on the top of the chair across from him as she said in a low voice, “Why are you here?”

            “I’m having coffee and cake,” he returned easily, gesturing to the cake and coffee in front of him.  Lara Jean wondered who served him and whether she should fire them immediately for subordination.  “But I am also here for a peace offering.”

            A peace offering?  It was the stupidest thing she had ever heard, and she conveyed as much when she returned with, “A what?”

He gestured in front of her and she noticed for the first time an untouched piece of cake.  “I hope you like your own cake.  Otherwise, this might be awkward.”

 “I don’t want your peace offering,” she said.  “Considering you are singlehandedly trying to sink this place into the ground, I think you should leave.”

“I don’t want to sink this place to the ground.  I like it here.”

Lara Jean snorted.  “Of course you do.  You’re probably sitting here taking notes for all the things you’re going to steal for your Bargain-Inn.”

“It’s _Econo_ -Inn.”

“Oh, like that’s any better.”

He laid his palms on the table, almost like he was about to stand and she thought for a moment she had won and he would actually leave, but he stayed rooted in his spot at her table and said, “Look, I really am here to make things right.  I think we started off on the wrong foot and we should fix that.  It’s not like we can really avoid each other.  This _is_ a small town”

            “Well, you’re not really trying to avoid me, are you?”

            He grinned wide, caught in the fact that he had sought her out at her place of work, and conceded, “I guess not.”

            “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But, we are never going to be friends. Your very existence in this town is a threat to my family’s business and you just don’t care.  All you care about is the next great opportunity to make money, no matter who you take down in the process. We’re a non-entity to you, and that’s not something I can get past.”  She took a deep breath, her cheeks flushed from the rush of emotions as she spoke, and asked, “So, do you want a doggy bag for your peace offering?”

            He held her gaze and then said, “Yes, please.”

 

* * *

 

            Lara Jean texted him when she got home from work, the stress of her day and Peter’s surprise visit rattling her nerves.  She curled up on her bed and her thumbs moving rapidly as she typed.

 

_I had the worst day.  Sometimes I hate people._

_Please send me something happy._

            A few minutes later her phone buzzed, and she saw that he sent her a picture of otters holding hands.  She grinned wide, turning on her side as she watched him type more.

 

_Was that happy enough?_

She was midway typing back a response when he sent her a video of a baby dissolving into laughter every time she ripped a piece of wrapping paper.  How had he known that it was the exact type of video she pulled up when she was sad? Her phone buzzed again and he sent:

 

_If those don’t make you happy, I really don’t know what will._

            She quickly typed back.

 

_THANK YOU!!_

_I really needed that tonight. You have no idea._

She watched his little typing bubble appear and then disappear. It happened a few more times, and she wondered if he was fighting the same instinct she had recently whenever they messaged.  She desperately wanted to meet him, but didn’t know the protocol in these situations. When was it appropriate to ask to meet the wrong number that you’ve been chatting with for weeks.  Was there ever an appropriate time?

            She put her phone down and went to get ready for bed.  She washed her face and brushed her teeth, the routine of it all calming her nerves even further.  When she walked back into her bedroom, she had a message waiting for her.

 

_Do you think we should meet?_

* * *

            “Oh my God, you’re meeting him tonight,” Kitty breathed out, walking with Lara Jean through the grocery store.  She grabbed a bag of potato chips and tossed them into the cart.  “This is big. Like, really big.  How are you handling it?”

            “Fine, I think.  I mean, I kind of knew it was going this way.  Or I hoped.”

            “I kind of thought it would dwindle away into nothing,” Kitty said, oblivious to the surprised look on her sister’s face. “I mean, it did all start with a random number.”

            “It’s nice to know you were on my side.”

            “Of course I am, Lara Jean!  I could not be happier that it turned out this way.  Do you think he’ll be cute?  He texts cute.”

            “How does one text cute?”

            “You can just tell.”

            Lara Jean turned into the canned food aisle, audibly groaning when she saw Peter standing a few feet away.  He looked up and said, “I thought that groan of disappointment sounded familiar.”

            “Hello Peter.”

            She needed chickpeas and naturally he was standing directly in front of all of the beans.  She gestured toward the chickpeas and he stepped to the side, infuriatingly silent as she reached up for a can.  They were stocked higher than normal, and the can was just far enough on the shelf to make it an uncomfortable reach.

            Peter had a good two feet on her, and asked, “Do you need help with that?”

            “Nope.”

            He watched her struggle more.  “Are you sure?”

            “Super sure.  Thanks.”

            She couldn’t slip her fingers around the can enough to gain any purchase to bring it forward.  Logically, she knew she should just ask Peter for help.  But, logic held no chance against her stubbornness. She ended up grabbing a box of Wheat Thins from her cart and using it to nudge the can over.  Peter watched as the can nearly fell on her head, and murmured, “The old Wheat Thin box move.   Very impressive, Covey.”

            “The Covey family is very self-sufficient,” she said stiffly.

            “I can see that.”

            As her and Kitty walked away, her sister said, “I thought we needed two cans?”

            “Just keep walking, Kitty.”

 

* * *

 

            They arranged to meet at a local bar.  Lara Jean put on her favorite pair of jeans and a cream top that offset her dark hair.  She dabbed perfume on her pulse points, her pulse dancing under her fingertips. After all the buildup, it was finally happening.  She was going to meet her Holden Caufield.  She got there a little early and sent him a text message.

 

_I’m sitting at the bar.  I’m in the cream shirt with long black hair._

            She hadn’t planned on ordering a drink before he got there, but her nerves were taut and she wanted something to make her a little calmer.  She ordered a gin and tonic, sipping it carefully as she covertly scanned the bar. Every new arrival sent a thrill through her until she saw them approach someone else. 

            He was running late, but she tried not to think about it.  Instead, she read some articles on her phone.  She sipped at her drink.  When her glass became empty the bartender asked if she wanted another, and she said yes, because it was thirty minutes into their supposed meeting and he was nowhere to be seen.  The only response to that really was a second drink.  After the second, a third drink just made sense.

            She was midway through her drink, her head feeling as if it was stuffed with cotton balls, when she saw him. Peter-fucking-Kavinsky.  He was also by himself, and unnervingly she noticed that he kept looking over at her.  He seemed troubled somehow, and she suddenly became angry.  Who was he to be having a bad night?  She was the one who was stood up.

            Lara Jean grabbed her purse and shoved it under her arm before walking over to him.  He gave her a small salute with his drink and asked, “What brings you to this fine establishment?”

            “You know, for someone who is supposed to be avoiding me you are doing a horrible job.”

            “I told you.  Small town.”

            She took another sip of her drink.  “I was supposed to meet someone tonight.”

            “Yeah?  How’d that go?”

            She laughed humorlessly.  “He didn’t show.”

            “I’m sorry to hear that.”

            “I’m sure he has a good excuse,” Lara Jean said. “Or not.  Either way, he didn’t show.”  The reality of the situation drove even deeper into her and she repeated, “He didn’t show.”

            “Maybe you wouldn’t have like him.”

            “No, he’s perfect.”

            “Perfect is boring.”

“No, it’s not.  It’s good.  He’s good. And kind-hearted.  He- he sends baby videos and otters holding hands.  He’s the type of person who asks you how your day was without it being a loaded question to get you to ask about his.  He’s a _good_ guy.”

            “Who didn’t show.  Doesn’t sound like such a good guy to me.  Maybe you dodged a bullet.”

            Lara Jean shook her head.  “No, you’re wrong.  Some people are honorable.  You surely don’t understand that, but that’s your failing.  Not his.  So, don’t lecture me about good guys.”

            Something flashed in his eyes, and she meant to follow up on it, but she was tired and her stomach was doing this weird thing where it felt like it was turning in on itself.  She pulled out her phone to call an Uber, but her battery was near dead.

            “Do you need a ride home?” Peter asked.

            “No.”

            “Your phone is almost dead.  How do you plan on getting home?”

            Lara Jean thought about calling Kitty or Margot, but she was too embarrassed to have them see her drunk and to have to explain that her mystery man hadn’t shown.  She needed time to digest what happened before she spoke with them. 

            “Okay, you can drive me home.  But no funny business.”

            He smiled a bit and said, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

            They didn’t talk much on the ride to her apartment, except for sparse directions from her that always came half a second too late and he had to double back.  When he stopped in front of her apartment she struggled with her seatbelt and he reached over and unhooked her.

            “Thank you for the ride,” she said.

            “Any time.  And, uh, for the record, I think you’re right.”

            “About what?”

            “I’m sure he had a good excuse.”

            She nodded sadly.  “Yeah.  Goodnight Peter.”

            “Goodnight, Lara Jean.”


	3. Chapter 3

             The Econo-Inn was being built on the corner of Maple and Oak.  It was a quiet area of town right between the local bakery, Weston’s, and a stationary store. When Lara Jean was a child, she used to spend entire Saturday mornings in the stationary store, her father patiently waiting as she examined each and every pattern with scrutiny.  As she walked by, the owner, Marjorie, gave her a small wave from the counter.  Lara Jean waved back and forced a smile.  She wasn’t in a particularly good mood given her reason for being in that part of town.

            She stopped at the construction site, heading to the back office where she suspected she would find Peter.  He was elbow deep in blueprints, so focused on his work that he didn’t realize she was there until she purposefully cleared her throat.  He looked up and his eyes widened slightly.

            “Lara Jean.  Hi.”

            “Hi Peter.”

            “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said. “Did I do something douchey that I don’t remember?”

            She smiled slightly at that and said, “No. You actually did something nice, which is why I’m here.  I wanted to thank you for driving me home last night.”

            “It was no problem,” he said with a shrug.

            “I’m not normally like that,” Lara Jean said, feeling the shame from earlier burn in her chest.  “Just so you know.  That’s not me.”

            “You didn’t do anything wrong.  You had a little too much to drink.  We’ve all been there.  I once tried to go skinny dipping in a fountain after too many beers.”

            She laughed despite herself, and said, “How did that turn out?”

            “About as you would expect.”

            “That would have been something to see,” Lara Jean said without thinking.  When she realized the implication of her words she flushed and immediately said, “Not that I want to see you skinny dipping in a fountain.  Or anywhere really.”

            Peter laughed.  “Duly noted.” 

            She suddenly needed to be anywhere other than this office and planned her exit as she said, “Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you.  So…thank you.”

            “You’re welcome.”

            She was about to leave when he asked, “So, did you hear from your guy?”

            Lara Jean nodded.  She woke up to a text filled with apologies that made her hangover a bit more bearable.

            “Yeah, it turns out he got stuck on an elevator that didn’t have cell service.  They had to call the fire department.”

            “See, he had a good excuse.  That had to make you feel better.”

            “Yeah, it did.”

            They both were silent for a moment, and just as Peter was about to speak, she said, “Anyway, I should really get going.  There are still guests to feed before you run us into the ground.”

            “Ah, there’s the Lara Jean Covey I know.  It’s nice to have you back.”

            Lara Jean felt her mouth pull into a small grin despite her best efforts to the contrary.  “Bye Peter.”

* * *

            Lara Jean headed into the inn after her chat with Peter, putting the last night behind her as she delved into preparations for lunch.  She was prepping lemon-arugula salads when Kitty came in and leaned on the counter next to her.  After a few moments of silence, Lara Jean looked over and said, “Are you planning to help or just loiter?”

            “I heard that Peter Kavinsky drove you home last night.  Care to explain?”

            Lara Jean said several swear words in her head before asking, “Who told you that?”

            “Hannah Lipton.”

            Lara Jean wrinkled her nose.  She couldn’t stand her nosy neighbor.  She was constantly peeking out of her front curtains and keeping tabs on her neighbors.  The only silver lining was if any crime happened in their neighborhood, Hannah Lipton would know who did it.

            “Bill Botts also saw you at the bar with him and said you left together.”

            “This town needs to get better gossip,” Lara Jean said unhappily.  Of course, she should have anticipated news would have gotten around.  Her and Peter’s complicated relationship had become well-known around town, so naturally any amicable sighting would raise red flags.

            “I thought you were seeing your texting guy last night.”

            “I was,” Lara Jean said.  “But he got stuck in an elevator.”

            Kitty snorted.  “I’m sorry, what?”

            “He got stuck in an elevator without cell service so he never showed up for our drink.  I didn’t know any of the elevator stuff at the bar, so you can imagine I was a little upset.”

            “And how does Peter factor into this?”

            “Hold on, I’m getting there.  I had a few drinks and ran into Peter.  My phone was too low battery to order an Uber, so he drove me home.  End of story.”

            “What was his car like?”  Kitty asked after a moment.

            “His car?  Um, car-like?  I don’t really remember.”

            Lara Jean _did_ remember having the spins and Peter handing her an empty Pringles can in case she puked.  She was never drinking again.

            “I bet it was a nice car.  He seems like the nice car type.”

            “Sure.”

            “So are you meeting up with texting guy again?”

            “We talked about it but no firm plans yet.”

            “Well, tell him next time to take the stairs.”

* * *

            Despite Lara Jean’s adventurous night before, she already had plans to attend her friend, Chris’, art opening that evening. Her hangover had worn off mid-afternoon, but she could feel her bed calling to her long before she left for the gallery.  She called in the caffeine reinforcements, finishing up her venti latte as she walked in. Chris walked over, enveloping her into a tight hug before she said, “You are the only person I knew who brings coffee to an art gallery opening.”

            “You know how I am without caffeine.  This is for all of your benefit.”

            Chris laughed.  “Did you at least spike it?”

            “Sadly no.”

            “That’s right, I heard about your fun night,” Chris said with a wink.  She linked her arm through Lara Jean’s and led her into the gallery as Lara Jean said, “Does anyone not know about last night?”

            “It’s a small town, LJ.  Not to mention you left with basically your mortal enemy. That raises eyebrows.”

            “Isn’t mortal enemy a little dramatic?”

            “I think it’s just right,” Chris said.  “By the way, full disclosure, I did invite your mortal enemy tonight.”  When Lara Jean gave her a look she said, “He’s a deep pocket.  The whole point of this is to maybe sell some art.”

            “It’s fine,” Lara Jean said.  “I’m going to have to see him, so I might as well get used to it.  Besides, he may not be as completely awful as I originally thought.”

            “Intrigue,” Chris enthused.  “This is very mature of you, LJ.  I’m proud.”

            “I try.”

            “Okay, so you know I love you, but you cannot bring this coffee into my gallery,” Chris said, plucking the paper cup from Lara Jean.  “It seriously brings down the cool factor.  Go get yourself wine!”

              Lara Jean laughed, conceding as she headed over to the makeshift bar.  There was already a man there, and she recognized him easily.  She almost turned around, but told herself that she could be an adult.  She walked over and stood next to him, drawing his attention as she ordered a glass of red wine.

            “I see you’re getting back on the wagon,” Peter said.

            “Yes, but I am planning on staying on it this time.”

            “Well, if you fall off I am happy to offer my chauffer services again.”

            “That won’t be necessary.”  She would be sticking to one glass and a hefty portion of appetizers, just to be safe.

            “A lot of people saw that ride, by the way. Like, a ridiculous number of people.”

            “I’m guessing it was only a handful that spread in a classic telephone fashion,” Lara Jean said, taking the wine from the bartender.  “Entertainment has been slow ever since the movie theater closed down for renovations.”

            “When was that?”

            “2015.  They keep saying it’ll just be another month.”

            “For four years?”

            “We’re a very hopeful crowd.”

            Peter laughed.  “You know, I’m surprised you’re talking with me.  Fraternizing with the enemy.”

            “Even enemies need a night off.”

            “Is that so?”

            “It turns out that it takes a lot of energy to hate someone.  And, I’m tired.  So, it’s your lucky night.”

            He nodded with a slight smile and said, “I’ll take what I can get.  So, are you seeing your guy again?”

            “Yeah, I think so.  We haven’t made any plans.”

            “You guys should go to the antique fair out in Oak Woods.  I went there last month, it’s really cool.”

            Lara Jean was surprised by his suggestion.  He didn’t seem like an antiques person.  She loved them herself.  There was something beautiful about every piece having its own story.  It immediately made the piece more interesting.

            “I can’t really picture you at an antiques fair.”

            “What does that mean?”

            “I don’t know, you just seem more like a…Best Buy person.”

            “Ouch,” Peter said, laughing.  “For the record, I love antiques.  It infuses any space with history.”

            “We have a lot at the Willowbrook Inn.”

            “Yeah, I noticed.”

            Lara Jean couldn’t help herself from tossing back, “Planning on lifting that for your Econo-Inn?”

            “Thank you for using the correct name for once. And, no, that doesn’t fit the design of them.  But, I have a lot in my apartment.”

            “What do you collect?” Lara Jean asked, honestly curious.

            “I collect a lot of books.  I like the sturdiness of them in a room.  But my real passion is old cameras.”

            “How old?”

            “I think my oldest is a CC Harrison 1/4 plate from the mid 1800s.  My favorites are the folding plate cameras, though.  Oh, and I have a Kodak Brownie Hawkeye from the 1950s.  That one’s really cool.”

            He became incredibly animated when he spoke about the cameras, and watching his enthusiasm made Lara Jean forget for a moment that they were enemies, competitors or whatever.  She asked him questions about the various cameras, impressed by his vast knowledge.  He knew all of the models and accompanying history.  After a particularly long answer to one of her questions, he trailed off and sheepishly said, “Sorry, I tend to go on and on about this stuff.”   

            “No, it’s nice.  You’re passionate about it.”

            “Yeah, I guess I am.  What do you get passionate about?”

            Her first thought was her work, but she found that she didn’t really want to talk about that.  Instead, she widened her thoughts and said, “I love old movies.”

            “What are your favorites?”

            “Too many to name.  But I guess, um, _Bringing Up Baby, An Affair to Remember, Gone With The Wind…_ and a lot more, but those are probably the top three.”

            “I’ve seen _Gone With The Wind_ , but none of the others.”

            “You have to see them.  Especially _Bringing Up Baby_.  That’s probably my favorite.”

            “Okay.  I’ll watch that one.”  He paused for a second and said, “So, you’ll bring the popcorn, right?”

            She gave him a look and said, “Don’t push your luck.” 

* * *

             Several hours later, and one moderately priced original piece of artwork, Lara Jean returned home.  She kicked her shoes off at the doorway and went immediately to her bed, plopping down on her stomach.  She pulled her phone out of her pocket and turned on her back, pulling up her texts with her mystery man.  She hadn’t heard from him all day and felt a tug at the base of her stomach as she started a message.  Midway through the message, she clicked her phone off and put it on her nightstand.  What if he didn’t want to see her?  He was technically the reason their drink didn’t happen.  Shouldn’t he be the one to initiate?  She picked her phone up again only to place it back on the nightstand.

            “Just sleep on it,” Lara Jean told herself.

            And so she changed into her pajamas and slipped back into bed, pulling the covers up over her and hoping she’d have more courage tomorrow.

* * *

            Peter went to that bar with every intention of getting a drink with her.  The mystery girl who had inexplicably come into his life with one wrong digit.  To be honest, he started to fall for her with her first text.  It was so open and unguarded.  So unlike everyone else who seemed to choose their words so carefully as to not reveal too much too soon.  She was an open book from the start, and he liked that.  By the time they arranged to meet, he was pretty certain that this was it. She was it.

            He was across the street from the bar when he got her text. 

_I’m sitting at the bar.  I’m in the cream shirt with long black hair._

             He crossed the street and walked into the bar, his eyes scanning the row of patrons until he saw her.  And there she was.  Lara Jean Covey with her long black hair and cream shirt.  There was no doubt that she was his date and there was absolutely no way he could go over there.  Lara Jean hated him.  He had no illusions otherwise, and was crushed by the realization that all of this had been for nothing, because she would never want to be with him.  The moment she learned who he actually was, it would be all over.  So, he disappeared to a back corner of the bar, figuring he could hide there until she left and then properly drown his disappointment.  Except she didn’t leave.  She sat there at the bar, her shoulders slumping further with each drink. 

He considered texting her at several points.  He could make up an excuse to cancel.  Work.  Family. Any of the above.  But maybe this was better.  They could never meet, that was readily apparent now, and what would happen after the excuse?  Another rescheduled drink that he would need to cancel?  This was better.  You forget someone who doesn’t show as quickly as you can.  And that’s what needed to happen.  She had to forget the other him.

Considering he was the one who made her order several drinks, he stayed to make sure she got home okay.  He really hadn’t planned on interacting with her at all, but then she saw him and walked over.  It was a testament to her vulnerable state that she even told him about the date. 

“He didn’t show.”

Except he did.  He was sitting right in front of her, but he couldn’t tell her that. Somehow, he thought it would be even more disappointing than her current predicament.  So, he tried to intimate the same, but she didn’t take it well. She seemed to have fallen for him as much as he had fallen for her.  It all had a sort of poetic irony to it, except it also sucked.  It sucked a lot. 

When he drove her home, he promised himself that he would leave her alone.   She might have liked the text him, but he knew for a fact she despised the living and breathing version.  Still, he couldn’t help suggesting that her mystery suitor had a good reason for not showing.  She just looked so despondent next to him in his car and she brightened a bit.  It was a harmless off-the-cuff remark. 

And when he got home, he thought that maybe it would be better to give her the excuse.  Let her not feel so completely abandoned.  He had actually been there, after all.  He would give her a reason for not being there and then it would fizzle out, like so many other casual relationships. 

But then she showed up at his office, all sheepish as she thanked him for driving her home.  Something shifted between them after that night.  He could feel it, and he could see by the guarded look on her face, that she did, too.  He almost told her then.  It would be so easy.  But then she was leaving, throwing a trademark sharp retort at him.  He was confused by his own feelings.  Somehow, knowing the whole person made him like her even more, and he was torn between feelings of hope and utter resignation. He wanted it to work while convinced that it wouldn’t, which is why he brought up the stupid antique fair.

He went home that night promising himself that he would put an end to it all.  It wasn’t fair to Lara Jean to let this continue.  It needed to end.  He reached over to his nightstand and grabbed his phone.  He typed and deleted several messages before putting his phone back on his nightstand.  Maybe he’d have more courage tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my favorite chapter so far. Hope you enjoy!

Peter decided that for the sake of his own sanity, it was best if he actually did try to avoid Lara Jean.  It was a small town, but there had to be ways to keep his distance.  No more impromptu visits at the Willowbrook Inn.  If he saw her out in the wild, he’d turn around. This was manageable.

            Except he kept seeing her.  She seemed to be everywhere.  At the grocery store.  In line at the post office.  He even ran into her at an obscure gas station.  She was polite and indifferent, as she generally had been since their night at the bar.  He kept wanting her mask to slip again.  To see what she was really thinking.

            Because he did actually know what she was thinking. Against his better instincts, he texted her again.  They didn’t bring up meeting again, instead reverting to their meandering stream of thoughts.  It was going well enough, until she unwittingly brought him up in conversation.

_It’s frustrating how difficult it is to really know people._

_There is this person in my life. Well, I guess he’s not really IN my life.  He just keeps popping up.  Anyway, I cannot get a read on him.  He’s a total jerk one minute and then he does something and…I don’t know, I think maybe there’s a good side to him?  It’s like whiplash every time we run into each other.    Do you have any experience with someone like this?_

 

Peter did, in fact, have experience with someone exactly like this.  Twenty-seven years, to be exact.  He didn’t really know how to respond at first.  Was it cheating to boost yourself in text messages to the girl that you kind-of-sort-of-like but cannot make a move on because you are convinced she would never like you back?  It felt a bit like cheating.

_People are complex creatures. It’s what makes us interesting and maddening at the same time._

_I’d give this person a chance. Maybe he will end up being exactly who you thought.  Maybe he’ll surprise you.  You’ll never know unless you give it a chance._

            Peter thought little of his text message as he went over to the local new station to record a segment on the new Econo-Inn.  It was part of the basic media blitz.  He would do a few on-camera interviews talking about construction and projected grand opening dates.  Then, a few remarks for the print variety and he would be done. Peter was good at interviews.  He considered himself an expert at crafting the Econo-Inn story and peppering in appropriately casual and smart off-the-cuff remarks.  He was good on his feet when questions were asked.  Which is why he didn’t prepare for this interview.  What was there to prepare for?

            His first interview was with Polly Wainright, the most popular reporter in Willowbrook.  If Peter had done his research, he would have learned that Polly was very close family friends with the Songs.  But, naturally, he hadn’t done any research.

            “Peter, we are so happy to have you here with us today,” Polly said, distracting him momentarily with a wide and blindingly white smile.  It looked like she used all of the Walgreens Crest white-strips stock at once.

            “Thank you.  I’m happy to be here.”

            “Tell us a little bit about this Econo-Inn that you are bringing to Willowbrook.”

            “Econo-Inns are designed to be your home away from home. They are comfortable, stylish and affordable.  There is this misconception in the hospitality business that a good hotel needs to cost the same as a down payment on a house.  And if you aren’t charging ridiculously high prices, you’re offering your guests a substandard experience.  We don’t believe in that.”

            “It certainly sounds like a wonderful experience for the guests,” Polly enthused.  “But, tell me, what will you bring to the town of Willowbrook?”

            Peter was well versed in speaking to the economic benefits and launched into how it would pull travelers into the town for overnight stays, which would invariably lead to a boost in traffic through the other nearby stores.  He spoke about job opportunities.  Leadership initiatives.  All along, Polly nodded along amiably, until she cheerfully asked, “Peter, what is the Econo-Inn’s response to its impacting, and frankly obliterating, similar businesses in smaller communities?”

            “We never seek to hurt local businesses.  But that is sometimes an unfortunate byproduct.”

             “I had my team do some research, and last year Econo-Inns were built in forty-two cities. Of those forty-two cities, thirty-one saw small bed and breakfasts close or substantially decrease their operation by the end of the fiscal year.  What do you have to say about that?”

            “Well, um, I think each town is different.  I’d have to see the specific details, but speaking here, I see no reason why we will have any impact on the local bed and breakfasts.  I’ve actually been to the Willowbrook Inn myself.  It’s a wonderful bed and breakfast.  Fantastic food.  But, frankly, we are not catering to the same type of guests.”

            Polly’s eyes sharpened, not unlike a predator realizing that she has trapped her prey, and asked, “What do you mean by that?”

             Peter did not know, in fact, what he meant by that.  He had just started talking and then his words wandered their way over to their disastrous end.  It was pretty clear that he messed up and the media golden boy, who could always think on his feet, was at a loss for words.

            “Well, it looks like we’re out of time,” Polly said. “Thank you for stopping by.”  As he sat in stunned silence, Polly looked at the camera and said, “Coming up next, what’s really living in your bathtub drain?  You’ll find out the answer to that question and more after the break.”

* * *

            It did not take long for the disastrous Polly Wainright interview to make the rounds.  Protests rang out in the town almost immediately, Lara Jean and her sisters taking lead.  Peter glumly ate his cereal as Lara Jean’s high-pitched voice rang out from his television.

            “The Econo-Inn is just another example of a corporate shill not understanding the town it’s trying to take over.  Peter Kavinsky said that my family’s inn caters to a different _type_ of guest than his lofty Econo-Inn.  What _type_ of guest was he referring to?  Because the Willowbrook Inn has proudly housed guests, local and distant, for over twenty years.  I don’t know what _type_ of guest the Econo-Inn is looking for, but we welcome everyone.  From your family’s reunion to a business trip, we are happy to have you call us home.”

            Peter turned off his television, groaning when his phone began to ring.  He had a feeling he knew who it was, and sure enough, when he answered his father’s booming voice filled his ears.

            “I heard about your interview.  Sounds like a complete disaster.”

            Peter rubbed at his eyes wearily and said, “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

            “Really?  Because from what I heard, it’s even worse.  I’m sending your brother over.”

            Peter straightened up on his couch and immediately said, “You don’t have to send Owen.”

            “I don’t think I have any other choice, Peter. Your little interview practically has the town chasing you out with a pitchfork.  You know better than to attack the local businesses.  You will never win that battle.”

            “I didn’t mean to.  I just – she caught me off-guard.”

            “Yes, reporters tend to do that.  Which is why I asked you to do the media training that you refused to go to.  Now, I am sending your brother to clean up your mess.”

            “But-“

            “Goodbye, Peter.”

* * *

           Lara Jean could not believe what a total and complete ass Peter Kavinsky proved to be.  He led her on for weeks, being all nice and acting like a good guy.  She actually thought for a moment that maybe it truly was all business.  She couldn’t exactly blame him for doing his job, just as he certainly couldn’t blame her. But then he went and did that interview, intimating that the Willowbrook Inn somehow had substandard clientele. Their guests were so lacking that the Econo-Inn wouldn’t even touch them.

            The townspeople were predictably ruffled by his comments.  The Willowbrook Inn was an institution, most of the town staying there at some point or another.  By attacking its guests, Peter had attacked the very town itself.  Late one night, after she gave her first televised interview - and she hoped her last because she did not do well under pressure – Lara Jean pulled out her phone and texted him.

_Remember that guy I told you about? I was right in the beginning.  He is not a good person._

_I guess sometimes people are exactly what they seem._

* * *

            Peter’s phone buzzed and he picked it up, his stomach twisting when he saw the message from Lara Jean.  He didn’t know what to say without giving too much away.  He knew there was no way of asking her to give him the benefit of the doubt.  She was likely to never text him again.  Instead, he wrote her the truth.

  _I’m really sorry._

            Owen arrived the next morning and greeted his brother with a loose hug and, “I told you to do the media training.”

            “I already got it from dad.  I don’t need it from you, too.”

            “Brighten up, dude.  This is an easy fix.  I got an interview scheduled tomorrow morning and we’ll sort it all out.”

            Peter watched Owen drop his bag onto the couch and asked, “How did you get an interview scheduled that fast?”

            He was pretty sure that all the local news stations had blacklisted him.  Owen grinned wide.  “I can’t reveal all my secrets, bro.”

            “Not to ruin your moment, but your secrets are never that good.”

            Owen shrugged and then told him, “I called in a favor with one of my guys from college.  His ex-girlfriend’s cousin is a reporter out here.”

            “Ex-girlfriend’s cousin?  Seriously?”

            Owen walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator.  “Yeah. It was a brutal breakup, but he stayed close with cousin.  You want a beer?”

            “No thanks.”

            “Actually, now that I think about it, I think they might have broken up _because_ of the cousin.  Anyway, we got the interview.  That’s what matters.”

* * *

            Peter was nervous.  Logically, he knew that you only had so many chances to fix a mistake, particularly when the mistake and fixing were both broadcasted live.  This would be his only chance. Selfishly, he saw this as more than the business.  He wanted to prove to Lara Jean that maybe he wasn’t the bad guy that she pegged him as. 

            “You need to calm down.  You look a little constipated.”

            Peter glanced over and Owen.  “Comments like that don’t help.”

            The reporter, Bridget, came over and said, “Alright guys, so it’ll be just what we discussed.  A quick introduction and then we’re going to get into the Willowbrook Inn stuff, okay?”

            Peter nodded.  “Okay.”

            Bridget walked away to get finishing touches on her makeup and Owen said, “Do I need to do breathing exercises with you?”

            “Shut up.”

* * *

            The studio lights shone brightly, making beads of sweat dot Peter’s hairline as Bridget went through her introductory remarks. He felt panicky, suddenly wondering why his face felt tight.  He moved his head slightly to the right.  Was he moving his head too much?  He should stop moving his head.  Bridget stopped talking and he realized he had no idea what she said. Luckily, Owen spoke first.

            “We thought it was really important to come on here and clear up some confusion about what was said earlier this week.  Peter was correct when he said that the Willowbrook Inn entertains a different sort of guest.  But that wasn’t meant to be derogatory.  We hold very different places in the hospitality market.  The Willowbrook Inn has been in existence for well over 20 years.  It is a staple of the community and the surrounding area. We would never dream to compete with that.  So, that’s what we meant when we said that we would be catering to different guests, because we will.  The Econo-Inn is somewhere you stop in as you are passing by.  The Willowbrook Inn is a _destination_.”

            “That is beautifully said,” Bridget enthused.  “Do you have anything to add, Peter?”

            Owen looked over at him with a placid smile that said say nothing or keep it brief.  He knew that his brother had just effectively undone what he did.  But, maybe he needed to take some responsibility, too.

            “I just want to apologize to the Willowbrook community.  I spoke carelessly and in doing so hurt a group of people that has been unfailingly kind and welcoming.  I am truly sorry.”

            He gave Bridget a slight nod and then she was wrapping up the interview, he and Owen smiling congenially as they went to a commercial break.  When they were finished, microphone removed and sweat wiped from their brows, Owen threw his arm around Peter’s shoulder and said, “You did good in there.  I almost believed you.”

* * *

            After the interview, Peter learned that Owen would be staying in town until the hotel was built.  While part of him objected, it would be nice to have some family in town. They headed to the bar, swapping stories over beers.  Owen went up to the use the bathroom, and a few minutes later Lara Jean joined him, not sitting but leaning against the counter.

            “That was a nice speech you gave this morning,” she said.

            He thought of what Owen said earlier and couldn’t help asking, “Did you believe it?”

            She studied his face for a moment.  “I’m still deciding.”

            “I guess that’s fair.  Well, I meant it.  If my word means anything.  Which they might not.”

            “Your words do mean something,” Lara Jean said. “I don’t know if they were genuine, but they still mean something.”

            Peter took a long pull from his beer and said, “One step forward three steps back, huh?”

            She looked at him oddly.  “What?”

            Peter’s head was buzzing from the beers and he knew he shouldn’t talk anymore but did anyway.

            “I really did mean it.  I never like this part of the business.  Everyone thinks we do, but I don’t.  I think the Willowbrook Inn is enchanting.  And I would save it if I could.  But the reality is 9/10 times that doesn’t happen.  So…,” he took another pull of his beer.  “…you do the math.”

            “Why would you say that?” she asked in a low voice. When he looked up, he saw that her eyes were filled with tears.

            “Shit.  Lara Jean-“

            “That place was my mother’s dream.  And there is nothing more important to me or my sisters than keeping that dream alive.  So, you can keep your _math_ to yourself.  We’re not going anywhere.”

            Lara Jean stormed away, nearly colliding with Owen as he made his way back to Peter.  He sat down at the bar and said, “Wasn’t that the inn girl?”

            “Yeah.”

            “I saw her over here.  What did you do to piss her off?”

            “I told her the truth.”

            “Are we going to have to do another media blitz for this?  I can only turn it on so often, bro.”

            Peter took another pull of his beer.  “No.  We won’t need another medial blitz.”

* * *

            Lara Jean busied herself at work, trying to forget last night and what Peter said.  She didn’t care about his stupid math.  The Willowbrook Inn was going to be fine.  She had been heartened by how much the town rallied around her with the controversy.  They loved this place as much as her, and she knew in her heart that they would survive. Still, she was practical and the statistics were hard to ignore.  She distracted herself with meringue.  The focus necessary did not allow her mind to stray to other less calming ventures.

            “Lara Jean?  There’s someone to see you up at reception.”

            Lara Jean was just about finished and said, “I’ll be right there.”

            She made her last meringue and slid the baking sheet into the oven.  After instructing her chef, Andy, to pull them out at the appropriate time, she wiped her hands on her apron and headed out.  She almost turned right back around when she saw Peter, but he had already seen her and she didn’t want to make a scene.  

            “What are you doing here?”

            “Can we talk?”

            Lara Jean’s first instinct was no, but there were people watching and she knew from experience that Peter was not an easy person to shoo away.  So, she walked toward him and said, “Let’s go outside.”

            “Okay.”

            They walked around the back toward the stables, both quiet as the warm spring day danced around them.  After a while she looked over at him and said, “I thought you wanted to talk.”

            “I’m just trying to think of what to say.”

            “Most people decide that before they come over to talk.”

            He smiled slightly and said, “Those people must be smarter than me.”

            There was another beat of silence and Lara Jean said, “Look, if you’re really not going to say anything I have work to get back to, and-“

            “I’m sorry for last night.”

            Somehow, she knew it was coming but she was still surprised.  “Oh. Okay.”

            “I had no right to say that whole thing about all the local places closing.  I mean, it’s true.  But those places didn’t have you and your sisters.  So, I honestly believe this one might turn out differently.  I hope it does.”

            Lara Jean tucked her hair behind her ears.  “Thank you.”

            “Anyway, that’s all I had to say.  So, I’ll let you get back to your work.”

            Lara Jean stared at him, her heart beating faster and faster in her chest, and she murmured, “You keep surprising me, Peter Kavinsky.”

            “Is that a good or bad thing?”

            She crossed her arms over her chest, a physical barrier between herself and the confusing feelings that he was eliciting in her.  “I haven’t decided yet.”

            “Fair enough.”

            They both stood quiet, waiting for the other to speak, when she asked, “Do you want to stop in for some cake?  We have a pretty good chocolate ganache one.”

            Peter smiled softly and nodded.  “That sounds good.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are reading please leave your thoughts on this! I love reading all of your feedback!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically Stars Hollow now. Enjoy!

Margot Song-Covey took things seriously.  Work.  Family. Even her social calendar was minded with a close eye.  She wrote in every event with a black ballpoint pen because the idea of needing to cancel was preposterous.  However, this precision was nothing compared to that which she employed for the town’s annual dance-a-thon.  As tradition dictated, Lara Jean was her dancing partner.  As tradition also dictated, Lara Jean tried to get out of it.

            “I think I twisted my ankle earlier today.”

            “No, you didn’t,” Margot returned crisply, moving past Lara Jean behind the front desk to grab a stack of envelopes that needed to go into the mail. 

            “I did!  It happened this morning.  I was walking to my car and this dog suddenly came out of nowhere.  Its owner ran after him and grabbed him, but I was so surprised that I did this sort of quick turn to the right and that’s when it happened. The ankle twisting.”

            Margot was checking the envelopes for stamps, and didn’t bother to look up as she said, “You know, you add too many details when you lie.”

            “I’m not lying.”

            Margot looked up and challengingly said, “Then walk for me.”

            “What?  Why do I need to walk for you?”

            “If you’re that injured I should be able to see it. So, walk for me.”

            Lara Jean considered faking a limp, but then sighed and said, “I get that this is tradition for you, but why does torturing me have to be part of it?  Why can’t you torture Kitty?”

            “It was mom’s favorite town event,” Margot reminded her.  “We have to go.”

            “I know.”

            “And I tried Kitty, remember?  She kept stepping on my feet.  You have natural rhythm, Lara Jean and, frankly, it’s a waste not to use it.”

            “Maybe we can take it easier this year?”  Lara Jean offered.  “Let someone else win?”

            Lara Jean could practically see the color rise in her sister’s cheeks.  The dance-a-thon went on until the last couple was on the dance floor.  For the past five years, she and Margot closed down the event. 

            “It’s like you don’t take this seriously,” Margot said before walking away.

            “Yeah,” Lara Jean called after her.  “Because I don’t!”

 

* * *

 

             Lara Jean snuck out of the inn for a lunch at the nearby diner.  She ordered a cheeseburger and French fries and settled into the far edge of the counter. A few bites into her cheeseburger, Peter joined her.

            “I haven’t seen you here before,” he noted.

            “I’m here a lot.  We must just keep missing each other.”

Since he visited her at the inn, they developed an odd but comfortable friendship.  Lara Jean never imagined becoming friends with the enemy, but it worked.  He stopped in for lunch at the inn.  She visited the building site, amazed and somewhat disturbed by how quickly it was shaping up.  It would be up and running before they knew it.  Lara Jean wondered what happened to him once the Econo-Inn was built, but never asked. 

            “You copied my order,” he joked, pointing at her plate. 

            She grinned and told him, “I’m carb-loading for tomorrow.”  When he gave her a confused look she told him, “The dance-a-thon.  I’m going against my will.”

            “Yeah, what’s with this dance-a-thon?  I keep hearing about it.”

            “We have it every year.  Basically, all the townspeople pair off for the night. There’s a nice band and at least one relationship ends by midnight.  It goes until there is only one couple left.”

            “What’s the prize if you win?”

            “There isn’t one,” Lara Jean said between bites of burger.

            “What do you mean there isn’t one?”

            Lara Jean shrugged.  “We just really love the dance-a-thon.”

            “But you’re being forced?”  Peter said, remembering what she said before. 

            “Yeah, it’s a pretty big deal for my sister. Our mom loved to go when she was alive, and so my sister wants to keep the tradition alive.  Anyway, we’ve won the last five years and-“

            “Whoah, whoah, whoah,” he said, interrupting her. “You guys have won the last five years?  How did I not know that I’m sitting with dance-a-thon royalty?”

            She shot him a look, trying to suppress her grin. “Stop that right now.”

            “Really.  Should I even be sitting here?  Am I worthy?”

            “You can leave at any time.”

            “Nah, I’m good,” he said, casually leaning an arm on the counter.  “So, any update on your mystery man.”

            “A lady never tells,” Lara Jean returned, but her cheeks flushed.  Of course, Peter knew the answer to his question.  They had been texting nearly non-stop for the last week.  Owen had noticed and Peter found himself fielding some dogged questioning by his brother. 

            “Maybe he’ll be at the dance-a-thon to see you take home your sixth victory.”

            Lara Jean rolled her eyes.  “Are we done talking about this now?”

            “Yes.  We are done talking about this.”

            The diner’s owner approached them and gruffly asked for Peter’s order.  When he walked away, Peter said, “I still don’t think he likes me.”

            “I’d say he’ll come around, but…”

 

* * *

 

             Lara Jean got a good night’s sleep in, and many more carbs (without the accompanying beef patties), before she, Kitty and their dad made their way to the local dance studio that was converted into a big-band dance hall for the day.  Already, the band was playing and the line to get in and claim your dancing number was out the front door.

            “This brings back memories,” Dr. Covey said, taking a deep breath.  “It even smells the same.”

            “That’s because Miss Patty’s worn the same perfume for twenty years,” Kitty said.

            “Lara Jean, did you bring the emergency granola bars?”  Margot asked suddenly. 

            Lara Jean shook her head.  “I thought you had them.”

            “No, I don’t have them!  I told you to take them!”

            “Girls, calm down.  I can run and grab your granola bars,” Dr. Covey said.  “The dance-a-thon is supposed to be a fun day, remember?”

            “I think you need to remind Margot of that a few more times.”

            “I am very fun,” Margot returned tightly. 

 

* * *

 

            “Why did I let you drag me here?”  Owen asked, walking with Peter into the dance studio. The band was playing some 1940s standard and the couples danced, some with more flair that others.  One particular couple attempted a lift with disastrous results.

            “Ouch, let’s see more people attempt those moves,” Owen said.

            Peter wasn’t listening closely to his brother, instead scanning the crowd for Lara Jean.  The dancefloor was still pretty crowded with couples, and after a few seconds he turned back to Owen and followed him over to the food.  Local businesses donated their time and spare food. Particularly appealing to Peter was a coffee kart, and he happily filled himself up a paper cup, the liquid warming his hand through the thin cup.

             “What’s the prize for all of this again?” Owen asked.

            “There is no prize.  Just the satisfaction of a job well done.”

            “Seriously?”

            “I don’t think a prize is the point.  It’s just a tradition.”  Peter looked around at all the smiling faces.  These people were dancing for absolutely no reason, and having the time of their lives.  “Look at how happy they all look.  Have we ever been this happy?”

            “Not without illegal substances involved.”

            Peter laughed.  “It’s nice, though.  Isn’t it?”

            Owen looked over at him.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say this place is changing you.”

           

* * *

 

             The crowd thinned out incredibly, but Lara Jean knew better.  She still had hours left on the dance floor, and she already ate all of her emergency granola bars.  She asked her dad to run out for more once, but felt bad about a second run.  Lara Jean watched a couple nearby do some fun moves and she poked Margot’s shoulder. 

            “Can we try something fun, too?  What about a spin?  We can handle a spin.”

            “Keeping it simple is the way to win,” Margot said. “Fancy moves is how you twist an ankle.”

            “Not even a turn?  Margot, please.  I’m dying of boredom.”

            Margot looked down at her sister and sighed.  “Fine, we can do some spins.”

            “Really?”

            “Yes, really.  Now…spin me.”

            “What?  I wanted to spin.  Not to spin you!”

            “Lara Jean, you wanted a spin and I am giving you a spin.  Stop being so difficult.”

            “I’m being difficult?  _I’m_ being difficult?”  Lara Jean hissed.  “I let you drag me here year after year.  Is that being difficult?”

            “It’s tradition, Lara Jean.”

            “Well, I’m sick of the traditions!”

            Margot’s eyes widened.  “You don’t mean that.”

            “You get so crazy with this and suck the fun out of all of it.  Yeah, I get that mom loved this.  And I know we come here because of that, but…I hate this event.  I’ve always hated it.  I hated it when we went as kids.  I hate it now.  I-”        

            She stopped suddenly when Margot tripped, her heel getting caught in the floor.  Margot looked up at Lara Jean with a stricken look on her face and said, “I think I twisted my ankle.”

            “What?  Seriously?”

            “Lara Jean,” Margot breathed out.  “We need to find dad.  He can sub in while I find some aspirin.  A good icing and it should be good to go”

            “Margot, let’s just call it.”

            “He has to be here somewhere.”

            “You’re injured, Margot.  I think we should call it.”

            “I don’t want to call it,” Margot snapped.  “I don’t want to call it, okay?  I want to win.  Because Mom always wanted to win and she never did.  And, I – I can’t feel her anymore, okay?  I used to feel her at the inn all the time, but I don’t anymore, but maybe if I win…” she tightened her grip on Lara Jean’s shoulder.  “I don’t want to call it.”

            Lara Jean felt tears sting at the back of her eyes. “Okay, we won’t call it.”

            Margot was still looking around, her jaw set in a hard line, and after a moment she relented and called out over Lara Jean’s head, “Econo-Inn guy, I need you!”

            Lara Jean looked back and was surprised to see Peter walking toward them.  She hadn’t realized that he was there. 

            “You beckoned?”  he said.

            “I need you to dance with my sister until I’m back.  Can you do that?”

            Peter nodded and then said, “Hold on, are you hurt?”

            At the same time that she said, “no”, Lara Jean said, “yes”.

            “She twisted her ankle,” Lara Jean explained. 

            Peter looked over his shoulder and said, “Owen, come over here, man.”

            His brother walked over and said, “What’s going on?”

            “Can you help Lara Jean’s sister?  She twisted her ankle.”

            “Yeah sure.”  Owen offered his arm to Margot.  “Lead the way.”

            As the pair walked away, Peter carefully slid his arm around Lara Jean’s waist and held her hand in his.  They moved slowly, Lara Jean suddenly aware of how close their bodies were.  She could feel her heart beat quicken and wondered if he could feel it from her fingertips.  It occurred to her that she hadn’t danced with men very often, at least not like this. She could feel the heat of his hand through her dress and she suddenly found herself wondering how different parts of him would feel against her.

            “It looked like you and your sister were having a bit of a tense moment before.  Everything okay?”  Peter asked.

            She looked up at him in surprise.  “Were you watching us?”

            “Not you in particular, just the dance floor. Look, you don’t have to tell me anything.  I just…I’m here if you ever need to talk.”

            “Thank you.  And we’re fine.  We’re always fine.”

            “Good.”

            “How is it for you having your brother in town?”

            “We are also always fine.  But, I think I mean it with a bit more sarcasm than you.”   

             Lara Jean went to say something when another couple collided with them.  Lara Jean crashed into Peter, her body pressed clumsily against his.  Lara Jean looked back and saw that it was her friend Chris, a devious glint in her eyes. Lara Jean looked up at Peter, poised to launch into apologies, but he was gazing down at her with such intensity that her breath caught in her throat.  She didn’t move, because her hand was placed just over his heart and she could feel it beating madly beneath her fingertips.  It somehow seemed to mirror her own.  Slowly, they began to dance again.

            “I think I get why people like this so much,” he murmured.

            Caught in the moment, Lara Jean softly returned, “Me too.”

 

* * *

 

             Sometime later, Dr. Covey appeared to relieve Peter of his dancing duties.  They had put some distance between each other, Lara Jean realizing the spectacle they were putting on quickly and putting a swift end to it.  What was she thinking?  This is exactly why she didn’t like the dance-a-thon.  She was tired and dehydrated, and it made her do silly things.

            “Care if I steal my daughter back?”  Dr. Covey asked.

            “Not at all.  I’ll see you later, Lara Jean.”

            “Bye Peter.”

            Lara Jean watched him walk away and when she looked at her father he had a knowing look on his face.

            “No, do not start.”

            “Okay, okay,” Dr. Covey relented with a grin.

            “How is Margot doing?”

            “Her ankle is twice the normal size.  I think she’s done dancing for today.  But, I have some good news for you.  She said we can call it.”

            “She did?”

            He nodded.  “Yeah.  She said something about it not being fair forcing you to do it.  That was mature of her, wasn’t it?”

            Lara Jean nodded quietly.  “Yeah, it was.  Um, hey, Dad?”

            “Yeah?”

            “If I were willing to try to win, would you?”

            Dr. Covey grinned wide.  “I thought you’d never ask.”

            That night, the Coveys won their sixth dance-a-thon.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter first heard about it in the grocery store.  He was picking out an asparagus bunch when he overheard a conversation between two women over by the apples.

            “It’s such a shame.  The Willowbrook Inn was such a wonderful place to visit.”

            “I know,” the older woman enthused.  “I used to take my grandchildren there for little weekend trips.”

            Peter moved closer and said, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but did something happen to the Willowbrook Inn?”

            “You haven’t heard?” the woman asked.  Peter shook his head.  “There was a fire last night.  The whole place had to be evacuated.”

            “Is everyone okay?” he asked immediately.

            “Luckily no one was hurt, but the word is that there was a lot of damage.  They may not be able to re-open.”

            Peter felt his chest tighten, thinking about Lara Jean and how much that inn meant to her family.  He could only imagine how difficult of a time this must be for them. He dropped his groceries off at home and then headed toward Lara Jean’s apartment, all the while wondering if he was doing the right thing.   He wanted to know that she was okay, but wasn’t certain that he would be the person she wanted to see.  But, they were friends now, right?  At least he thought they were friends.  Either way, he could try.

            He parked in front of her apartment and walked up the front steps, pausing for a moment at her door before knocking.  He heard some shuffling inside and then Lara Jean opened the door, her face drawn.

            “Peter, what are you doing here?” she asked, tucking her hair behind her ears.

            “I heard about the inn.  I wanted to see if you were okay.”

            “Oh.  Thanks.”

            They stood there quietly for a moment before he asked, “Can I come in?”

            Lara Jean stepped back immediately and nodded quickly as she said, “Yeah, of course.  Sorry.”

            “You don’t have to apologize.”

            “It’s been a long day,” she said, closing the door and walking into the kitchen. 

            “Yeah, I bet.”

A teapot just began to whistle on the stove and she turned off the heat, reaching into the cabinet above to pull out a mug.  She asked him if he wanted any, and when he nodded, yes, she pulled him out a mug, too.

“Can I help at all?”

She shook her head.  “No, thank you.”

Lara Jean walked past him into the living room, handing him a mug as she passed. and sat down.  Peter joined her. 

“So, are you okay?” he asked.

Lara Jean took a deep breath.  “Not so much.  But, you know, I’m managing.”

“What happened?”

“It was faulty wiring.  I don’t really understand how it all works but, it did a lot of damage.”

“Insurance should cover that, right?  You guys can rebuild.”

Lara Jean nodded.  “Yeah, except it turns out that it’s more than that.  A contractor here did us a favor and came in to do a quick assessment.  The fire revealed a lot of structural problems that we weren’t aware of. Things that we need to fix that aren’t covered by insurance.”

“What about a loan?” Peter asked, trying to fix a problem that was becoming more monumental than he anticipated.  “You can go to the bank and-“

“I already looked into a loan.  Turns out they don’t really like it when all of your money is invested into the property you’re getting the loan for.  They don’t consider that particularly good collateral.”

“They have to know you’ll recoup the money.”

Lara Jean avoided his gaze as she said, “The bank is concerned that other hospitality options in the area may cut into our profits.”

The subtext of what she said was blaringly obvious and Peter felt guilt spread through him.     “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not.  So, we’re in a bit of a holding pattern right now until, I don’t know, $20,000 falls from the sky?”

“I’m really sorry, Lara Jean.”

Lara Jean took a sip of her tea.  “Yeah, me too.  That place - it was my entire life.  I poured everything into it.  Everything. And the thought of not having it anymore…”  Lara Jean suddenly found it difficult to breath, and she grasped at her chest as she breathed out, “…I can’t lose it.  I can’t lose that place.”

“Hey, hey, you don’t know that will happen,” Peter said, gently prying the mug from her hand and putting it on the coffee table.  He slid his arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him, sobbing softly into her hand.  It pained him to see her so upset and there was absolutely nothing that he could do.  Except, maybe there was.

“I could give you the money,” he said.

Lara Jean looked up at him and murmured, “What?”

“I could give you the money.”  He worried for a moment that he offended her by the offer and quickly added, “It would be a loan, of course.  To be paid back in full.  But, it would allow you to get the renovations and not worry about the money for now.”

“I can’t ask you for that.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering,” he said.

Lara Jean pulled away from him, shaking her head.  “I can’t.  I appreciate the offer, but it’s too much.”

“It’s just a loan,” he reasoned.  “People do them all the time.”

“Where would the money even come from?”

“I have some saved up,” he said.  “It really wouldn’t be a huge deal.”

“It’s $20,000.”

“I know,” he said with a shrug.  “Look, let me help you with this.  I know how much that inn means to you and your family.  I don’t want to see it go, either.  Take the money so you can fix it, and we can worry about everything else after.”

Lara Jean was quiet as she considered his offer, and after a moment she asked, “Can I think about it?”

“Yeah, of course.  Take as much time as you need.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Lara Jean never expected to have Peter offer her $20,000 to help rebuild the inn and she definitely didn’t expect to actually consider his offer.  It was ridiculous.  He was basically still a stranger to her.  And, he was part of Econo-Inn.  His loan would basically mean the company had a stake in the inn until they paid it off. Still, what were her other options? Without the money, the inn would almost certainly close.  With the money, she would be indebted to Peter Kavinsky.  Lara Jean didn’t tell her sisters, because she knew what they would think.  Margot would balk.  Kitty, who had not so secretly started shipping Lara Jean and Peter, would say it was a declaration of love.  She didn’t want to have to deal with either of those conversations.  So, she would let it go.  There were other options.  Other banks to try to get loans from.

            One week later, and several disappointing visits to banks, Lara Jean decided she had no other choice.  And so, she told her sisters.  Margot, predictably, balked.  Kitty’s eyes widened and she said, “This is just like out of a movie. You have to say yes.”

            “He’ll have a stake in the inn,” Margot threw in. “That gives him power.”

            “What other choice do we have, Margot?”

            “Anything else.”

            “Look, I really don’t think he has some bad intention with this,” Lara Jean said.  “I know you don’t like him, but this felt genuine.  He just wants to help.”

            Margot crossed her arms over her chest.  “I still don’t think it’s a good idea.  But it looks like I’m outnumbered.”

            “We’ll be able to save the inn.  That’s what matters.”

            Lara Jean texted Peter that evening that she agreed to the loan and then the paperwork was drafted and processed.  Lara Jean felt lighter.  Maybe this would all work out in the end.  The contractor came back for a final assessment.  Plans were made.  And then she read the article.

 

_Econo-Inn Pitches In To Save Local Business_

            “What an ass,” Margot said, tossing the newspaper in the garbage.  Lara Jean felt tears burn at the back of her eyes.  She was so stupid.  How could she have believed him?  She should have seen this for what it was.  For what it always would be.  Lara Jean fished the article out of the garbage and stormed out of the inn, headed toward the Econo-Inn building site.  She blazed past Owen on the way to Peter’s office and found him seated at his desk poring over some blueprints.  She threw the newspaper in front of him.

            “You just wanted to help, huh?”  she said.  “That’s why you pitched the story to the media?  It’s a great story.  You riding in like the white knight and saving the poor local business.  It really has some narrative legs to it.”

            Peter looked at her in confusion and asked, “What? What are you talking about?”

            “The article!  Don’t play dumb, Peter.  You used the inn burning down as a PR move.  You used _me_ as a stupid publicity stunt.”

            Peter quickly read the article, his cheeks staining red.  “I’ve never seen this article before.  Lara Jean, you have to believe me.”

            “No, I’m done believing you.  I will pay back every single penny of that loan and then I want nothing to do with you ever again.  Do us both a favor, and from now on, leave me the hell alone.”

            She left the office and Peter went after her, calling out her name but she didn’t turn around.  Owen watched from the side and remarked, “That was dramatic.  You think she’d be more appreciative considering we saved her ass.”

            Peter turned toward his brother, suddenly putting the pieces together, and asked, “Did you leak the story”

            “Of course, I did.  It’s a great bit of PR, especially considering the shit storm of a few months ago.

            Peter ran his fingers angrily through his hair and retorted, “Believe it or not, I didn’t do it to get anything out of it.  I did it to help a friend and now that friend is royally pissed at me.”

            “She’ll get over it.”

            “No, I don’t think she will.  Because your article makes it look like I did this for myself, which is the exact sort of thing she won’t get over.  Dammit Owen, why couldn’t you leave this alone?”

            “So, you lost a friend.  It’s not like you’re going to be here for that long.”

            “Are you fucking kidding me?”  Peter returned heatedly.

            “Okay, okay, I sense that I went a little far with that,” Owen said placatingly.  “Look, I’m sorry that I messed up your friendship.  Really, I am. I leaked the story because that’s why I assumed you lent her the money.  It never occurred to me that you did it just to be nice.”

            “I didn’t do it just to be nice,” Peter said defensively.

            “Then why did you do it?” 

            Peter realized a moment too late what he said, and he quickly stammered, “No, I mean, that is why I did it.  To be nice.  Because we’re friends.”

“Oh wow.  Okay, I get it.  Wow.  You like her.”

            “Shut up.”

            Owen nearly preened as he said, “You _really_ like her.”

            “It doesn’t matter because she will probably never speak to me again.  Unless it’s her last words before killing me.”

            “I’ll talk to her.”

            “No, you absolutely will not.”

            “Okay, I won’t,” Owen said with a shrug.

            “I mean it, Owen.  Do not go talk to her.”

            Owen walked away as he said, “I won’t.”

            “Owen, seriously, I mean it!”

 

* * *

 

 

            Owen did not stay true to his word.  He found Lara Jean at the local diner and sat down across from her unbidden, quickly saying, “I’ll only be here for a few minutes, so please do not throw that drink at me.”

            “I wouldn’t waste a perfectly good coffee on you.”

            “You’re ballsy.  I get why Peter likes you.”

            Lara Jean blinked rapidly.  “Why are you here?”

            “For starters, Peter did not send me.  He actually specifically told me not to talk to you.  But, I thought you should know that I leaked the story, not Peter.  It seems that he actually did give you that money just out of the goodness of his heart.  I know. I’m as shocked as you are.”

            “Okay,” Lara Jean said icily.

            “So, if you’re going to be mad at anyone, you should be mad at me.  Not Peter. He actually really cares about you. That loan was as much of a testament to you as the inn.”

            Lara Jean felt guilt creep into her chest as she remembered how she yelled at Peter.  Curling her hands defensively around her coffee mug, she asked, “Anything else?”

            “A few months ago, he would have been the one leaking the story without a second thought.  It’s funny how people change.”  Owen stood. “Anyway, I promised I’d only be a few minutes.  Bye, Lara Jean.”

           

* * *

 

 

            After a cup of coffee and a large piece of pie, Lara Jean made her way over to Peter’s apartment.  She hadn’t been there before, but knew from prior conversations where he lived.  She walked up to his apartment and knocked on the door, hoping that he was there while she had enough nerve to say what she needed to say.  After a few moments, he opened the door and eyed here warily.

            “Hi Lara Jean.”

            She had something planned, but with him in front of her, all she could manage was, “I’m sorry.”

            His shoulders slackened, and he said, “I feel like we’ve said that to each other a lot since we’ve met.”

            “Sorry about that.”

            He laughed a bit. “There we are apologizing again.”

            “I guess I’m just still afraid that you’ll end up just like I thought.  But you’re not.  You keep surprising me.”

            “Have you decided if that’s a good thing yet?”

            Lara Jean nodded.  “Yes. It’s good.  And maddening and confusing, and…I don’t know.  Everything used to be so clear to me, but now when I’m around you, it’s like everything’s jumbled.  My thoughts, my feelings.  I can’t keep anything straight anymore.”

            “I know.”

            Lara Jean thought about what Owen said, about Peter liking and caring about her, and asked, “Why did you give me that loan?”

            “I saw how much that inn meant to you.  I didn’t want to see you lose it.”

            “So, it was about the inn.”

            “Well, yeah.”

            “It had nothing to do with anything else?”

            Peter hesitated before shaking his head.  “I just wanted to help you save the inn.”

            Lara Jean nodded, telling herself to stop flying to flights of fancy and just take him for his word.  Who knows if Owen was even telling the truth before.  “Well, thank you again.  It really means a lot to me.”

            “You’re welcome.”

            “Well, anyway, I should get going.  Good night, Peter.”

            “Good night, Lara Jean.”

            She walked away, closing her eyes for a moment as the cold wind bathed her face, and then she heard him call her name, and when she turned he was walking toward her, his pace brisk and determined. Before she could say anything, he pressed his mouth against hers, his hand sliding behind her head.  Lara Jean had been kissed a handful of times in her life, but not like this.  Peter’s mouth was deliberate and gentle at the same time, the feel of his mouth making her weak in the knees.  When he pulled away, he murmured, “It was about more than the inn.”

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW, no idea if 20,000 is too little or too much for the very vague damage I described at the inn. Let's say it's just enough!


	7. Chapter 7

            If Lara Jean had a clear head, she would have thought that making out with Peter Kavinsky in the middle of the intersection at Maple and Oak was risky. She would have also probably reasoned herself out of following him to his apartment, her purse tossed somewhere near the general vicinity of his kitchen as he kissed her. She had never been kissed to distraction before, but here she was, absolutely distracted in the best possible way as his mouth moved deftly against hers. Peter Kavinsky knew how to kiss. Yes, he did. They stumbled blindly toward some sturdy surface, nearly taking a lamp down on their way.   The near-miss brought them both to their senses, the moment breaking enough to allow them both to think and breathe. Foreheads pressed together, Peter murmured, “Sorry. I-I got a little carried away.”

            “No, it’s okay,” she said. “I did, too. That was…” she trailed off, a wide grin spreading on her face. “Wow.”

            “I couldn’t have put it any better.”

            He leaned in and kissed her gently, his lips barely brushing against hers. He had thought of this moment for so long, and it was finally happening. His phone felt heavy in his pocket. Just this morning he had been texting her as the other him. The one that he had always thought of as the person she actually liked. But, here she was in his apartment. He had been wrong all the time, convinced that she would never like him. Suddenly, he saw everything so clearly, and he took a deep breath before he said, “Lara Jean, I have to tell you something.”

            She looked up at him expectantly. “Yes?”

            “I-“

            Suddenly, Owen burst through the front door. Lara Jean pulled away from Peter immediately and he instinctually reached out for her. Owen, realizing he walked in on something that he definitely should not have, backed toward the door and said, “Sorry, bro. I didn’t know you had someone over.”

            “I was actually just leaving,” Lara Jean said, self-consciously smoothing her hair down. She looked over at Peter and gave him a shy smile. “I’ll see you later?”

            Peter nodded. “I’ll see you later.”

            Lara Jean gave Owen a sort of odd salute as she slipped past him, closing the door behind her. Owen turned to Peter with wide eyes and went, “Dude. What did I just walk into?”

            “It’s a long story,” Peter said irritably, walking over to the kitchen to get himself a beer. “Thanks for that by the way. You had impeccable timing, as always.”

            “Calm down, drama queen. I’m sure you’ll have no problem starting where you guys left off.”

            “It’s a little more complicated than that,” Peter said, twisting the cap off his beer and taking a large sip. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and put it on the counter, staring at it forlornly. That stupid phone was what started all of this trouble. Without it he could have just met Lara Jean organically. Who knows what would have happened then.

            “Why does it sound like you’ve already screwed up?”

            Peter took a deep breath. “Remember that number you keep making fun of me for?”

            “The Jane Austen chick?”

            Peter nodded. “Yeah. It’s Lara Jean.”

            Owen stared at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

            “And I’ve known for a while. Like, a while, while. But she hated me back then so I couldn’t tell her.”

            “Sound logic.”

            “So, I figured that I would befriend her. Just sort of see how it went. And, well, you saw how it went. And I was about to tell her, but…”

            “But I walked in with my impeccable timing,” Owen said, nodding slowly. “Okay, so I see where this may be problematic.”

            “I’ll just tell her the next time I see her,” Peter said. “You know, unless we’re in public. Because that’s a lot of pressure. And, I don’t perform well under pressure. Maybe I should ask to her dinner. But, is it weird to ask her out on a date without her knowing this? I mean, I hope it doesn’t change things, but it may, and –“

            “Or you could just text her that you want to meet,” Owen said, pulling his brother from his spiral. When Peter looked over at Owen, he saw with horror that his brother was using his phone.

            “Owen, what-“

            “Problem solved,” Owen said with a tap of his thumb. He put the phone back on the counter, noticing the stricken look on his brother’s face. “You know this was the quickest way to resolve this problem.”

            “It needs to be _me_ telling her this. Not that me!” Peter said, gesturing sharply toward his phone.

            “It’s all the same you. What’s the difference?”

            Peter sputtered, beyond words, and finally managed with, “It-it’s different! How did you even know my passcode?”

            Owen gave him a look. “Come on. Of course I know your passcode.”

            Peter groaned. “Okay. You know what, we can fix this. We…” he opened up his text messages and saw the conversation bubble, “…she’s typing.”

            “Yeah man, I told you it would work! Progress!”

 ____________ 

 

            Lara Jean typed and deleted her text message for the third time. How was she supposed to text him when she was making out with Peter Kavinsky not even an hour ago? She was a horrible person, and what made her even more horrible is that she wanted to meet him. He had taken up so much of her headspace for the last few months, how could she not? Again, Lara Jean typed and deleted.

 ____________

 

            “Does she know we can see this?” Owen asked, watching the conversation bubble appear and disappear.

            Peter frowned. “I don’t think so.”

_____________ 

 

            “The Bachelor is on at seven, so you have thirty minutes,” Kitty said, letting Lara Jean into her apartment.

            Lara Jean dropped her purse on the couch and said, “I made out with Peter Kavinsky and text guy wants to meet me again. So, I’m freaking out a little.”

            Kitty shrieked. “Okay, forget The Bachelor. This is so much better! When did you make out with Peter? Why? And, how was it?”

            “About an hour ago. It just sort of happened. And it was...” she trailed off, her cheeks burning when she remembered the feel of his mouth against hers.

            “That good?”

            Lara Jean nodded emphatically. “But, now text guy wants to meet. And we really click. I mean, the kiss was good with Peter, but what else do we really have in common?”

            “That you want to bone each other.”

            “Kitty, be serious.”

            “I am. That type of chemistry should not be discounted. But, I also get the allure of text guy. You know, you should try out both.”

            “That feels gross.”

            “No, it is being a modern woman. Give me your phone, let me see the message.”

            Lara Jean handed her the phone as she said, “So, it’s not weird to arrange to meet up with one guy when you just made out with another? Because it feels weird.”

            “Not weird at all.”

            Lara Jean noticed that Kitty was typing and immediately asked, “Hold on, what are you doing?”

            “Nothing, just-“

            “Kitty, give me my phone right now.”

            “I’m almost done,” Kitty said, twisting away from Lara Jean’s grasp. “I just-“

            “Kitty! Give me my phone!”

            Kitty ran away from her and yelled over her shoulder, “You’re going to make me make typos. Do you want him to think you can’t spell?”

            “Kitty-“

            “Done!”

            Kitty handed Lara Jean back her phone, and her sister reluctantly read the message. “You recommended that we meet at Bid-A-Basket? Seriously?”

 

_____________

 

            “What the hell is Bid-A-Basket?” Owen asked.

            “Wait, I think I heard about this. People make baskets and then other people bid on them.”

            “Oh. So, it’s super self-explanatory.”

            Peter shrugged.

            “Sort of a weird place to plan a meeting, but hey, I’m into it. What should we say back?”

 

______________

 

            “I cannot believe you chose Bid-A-Basket. He’s going to think I’m a huge weirdo.”

            Lara Jean’s phone buzzed and Kitty immediately picked it up and read the message. “Yes! He’s into it!”

            “Wait, seriously?” Lara Jean said. “He said yes?”  
            “Okay, we need to figure out how you’ll know each other.”

            “Well, I should give him my name, right? I mean, it kind of feels like the time.”

            “No, you’ve gone this far without names. Why turn back now.”

            Kitty typed furiously and Lara Jean considered stopping her, but honestly, by this point, why?

 

_____________

 

            “Okay, okay, she texted back,” Owen said, reading the message.

            “What does it say?”

“She will be the first basket up for bid,” Owen read. “Huh. She’s really going with this Bid-A-Basket thing, isn’t she?”

“So this is happening,” Peter said nervously. “Bid-A-Basket is only a few days away.”

Owen nodded, quiet for a moment, and then asked, “What if someone outbids you?”

“Owen, I swear to God, if you bid against me…”

 

______________

 

            Lara Jean avoided Peter before Bid-A-Basket, thinking that it was best to have a clear head before she went into meeting text guy. She spent months building this guy up and she wanted him to have a fair chance. So, no Peter. For once, her efforts to avoid him worked. Before the big day, she had only seen him from afar at the grocery store where she successfully turned down a different aisle and checked out without an encounter.

            Bid-A-Basket was held in the town square, a makeshift stage set right in the middle for the bidding. A crowd already formed in front of the stage, the air charged with excitement. Lara Jean stood nervously at the side of the stage with Kitty. She clutched her basket tightly.

            “I can’t believe we’re finally going to see text guy,” Kitty said. “He’s probably out there right now.”

            Lara Jean scanned the crowd, her chest tightening when she saw Peter.   She forced her gaze away to take in the other faces. They were all mostly familiar and she had a panicked moment when she considered that he wouldn’t show.

            “Promise me that you’ll bid on my basket if he’s not here,” Lara Jean said suddenly.

            “Lara Jean, he is going to show.”

            “Just promise me.”

            “I’ll bid on your basket,” Margot said, joining them. She gave Lara Jean a hug and said, “Kitty filled me in on everything.”

            Lara Jean looked over at Kitty and her youngest sister gave her a slight shake of her head to tell her that not _everything_ had been shared, i.e. the Peter of it all. Lara Jean let out a shaky breath and said, “Thank you, Margot.”

            “The Covey girls have to stick together,” Margot said.

            “But he’ll be here,” Kitty said. “I have a good feeling.”

            The town mayor stepped on stage and announced the beginning of the event. Lara Jean didn’t listen to his opening remarks, too nervous to focus on the words. Before she knew it, Kitty was nudging her toward the stage and she climbed up the steps, feeling her heart thundering in her chest as she looked out into the crowd.

            “Our first basket is from our very own, Lara Jean Covey. Lara Jean’s baskets never disappoint, people. So, we’ll start the bidding at ten dollars! Do I have a ten dollars?”

            There was silence, until a voice rang out in the back.

            “Fifty dollars!”

            The crowd parted and there he was. Peter. She looked at him in confusion and he gave her a small shrug, his face open and nervous. The pieces quickly came together. It was him. All this time, it was _him_.

“Well, young man, that’s not really how bidding works, but…fifty it is! Do we have fifty-five? Going once. Going twice. Sold, for fifty dollars to Peter Kavinsky! Fantastic start to Bid-A-Basket, people! Let’s keep the momentum going!”

Lara Jean shuffled off the stage, her entire body tingling as she watched Peter approach. Off to the side, she vaguely noticed Margot head toward her and Kitty stopping her. Peter stood in front of her and she said, “It’s you.”

“Lara Jean-“

“I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly.”

Peter stepped forward and gently took the basket from Lara Jean’s hand and placed it on the floor. He cupped her cheek with one hand and leaned in, stopping just short of her mouth. Without a second thought, Lara Jean closed the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the final chapter. I have a very busy period of work coming up and didn't want this to end up not completed. There may be an epilogue posted down the line, but for now this is it. Thank you so much for reading! I have absolutely loved writing this story for all of you!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you want to see more chapters! 
> 
> Also, this town is 100% inspired by Stars Hollow. So, look forward to those parallels.


End file.
